


Smoking

by rsadelle



Category: Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love, Original Work
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-04-04
Updated: 1999-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 15:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsadelle/pseuds/rsadelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short tale of cravings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoking

**Author's Note:**

> Although this is an original fic, the guys she's watching belong in From Eroica With Love, a manga written by Yasuko Aoike.

"Come out to the balcony with me." I followed her of course. We were friends after all. Once out there, she found someone to give her a cigarette and got him to light it for her. Oh, she did it politely and in a manner which suited her station, but in purpose it was no different than a fifteen-year-old bumming a smoke from her friends after school. We leaned on the railing and looked out over the gardens. She blew out the smoke and sighed. "Don't tell David about this, please. He doesn't like it when I smoke."

"I won't." I turned and leaned back, my elbows resting on the railing, so I could watch the party through the windows. I watched a flamboyant blond Englishman try to capture the attention of a crabby German guy. I'd met him earlier. Major something-or-another. I should have remembered it, but then, I'd been distracted all evening.

"I know I shouldn't smoke and David is right, but . . ." She shrugged. "You should be glad you don't." My fingers itched for a cigarette. The blond followed the major out onto the balcony.

Then I smelled it. The unmistakable odor of a Du Maurier. I heard his voice, greeting someone. I could almost taste him. Then he was there, standing next to me.

"Madame." He brushed his lips across my knuckles. "Mademoiselle." He did the same to her, but kept his eyes on me. He lifted the cigarette to his lips. I wanted to tear the cigarette out of his hands. I wanted to press my lips to his and never let go.

"Take a walk with me?"

"Certainly," I assented, but she pulled me aside.

"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed. I turned toward her. I knew from her reaction that my eyes held that mad glitter whose appearance always coincided with his.

"Whatever the hell I want." I was older, and married; she couldn't do anything about it without causing a scene.

We walked a ways into the garden.

"Where's your husband?"

"I don't know. Drinking with his cronies, I suppose."

He pulled out another cigarette and lit it. I put my hands up to cup his head, twining my fingers through his hair to pull his lips down to mine. God. The taste of him and the Du Maurier . . . He kissed me back, careful to keep the cigarette away from my hair, my dress, my skin.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were just using me for my cigarettes," he said when we broke apart.

"Maybe I am," I replied, as he took another drag on the cigarette. We both knew I was lying. I leaned back in for another kiss.

When he'd finished the cigarette, we pulled ourselves back into respectability. I reminded myself that this was why I never wore makeup. No lipstick to fix or give away the truth. We walked back to the house. She was still standing there, watching. The blond had backed the major into a corner for a kiss.

"Mademoiselle." He greeted her again, apologizing for monopolizing my company. Then he turned to me. "Until we meet again, Madame." He melted back into the party. I stood there on the balcony with her, my craving momentarily satisfied.


End file.
